


Louisville Slugger

by searchingwardrobes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 21:00:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12661326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchingwardrobes/pseuds/searchingwardrobes
Summary: Killian’s brow rose as Emma snatched the Louisville Slugger that she kept propped up in the corner by the TV. She then reached up on her tiptoes to retrieve the switchblade she kept hidden on the top shelf of her bookcase, pocketed it, and marched towards the door with the baseball bat resting against her shoulder.“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute,” Killian blurted out as he rushed after her, “what are you doing?”“What does it look like I’m doing?” she snarled. “I’m getting my revenge.”Or what happens when you listen to Carrie Underwood during your morning workout.





	Louisville Slugger

**Author's Note:**

> * The song Killian sings for Emma is "Wonderwall" by Oasis.  
> * Is there a support group for people who can't stop writing fics with song lyrics?

              “Swan! It’s me!”

              Killian Jones shut the door behind him with his toe as he pocketed his keys. The lights were on in his best friend’s apartment, but that wasn’t necessarily a sign that she was home. She had a bad habit of dashing out of the door with every light in the place burning. No amount of his lecturing seemed to put an end to her wasteful ways.

              “Swan?” he tried again as he made his way into the kitchen. He avoided looking at the sink, knowing it was most likely filled with dirty dishes, and opened the fridge. He swiped a beer, popped the tab and took a sip. He called out her name one more time, albeit half-heartedly. “I thought we had plans,” he muttered under his breath as he continued to nurse his beer.

              Then, suddenly, there she was, bursting through the door in all of her red-leather clad glory, her golden ponytail whipping and bouncing against her shoulders. A lesser man would have recoiled at the barely contained fury upon Emma Swan’s face as she stalked across the small living room.

              Killian’s brow rose as Emma snatched the Louisville Slugger that she kept propped up in the corner by the TV. She then reached up on her tiptoes to retrieve the switchblade she kept hidden on the top shelf of her bookcase, pocketed it, and marched towards the door with the baseball bat resting against her shoulder.

              “Whoa, whoa, wait a minute,” Killian blurted out as he rushed after her, “what are you doing?”

              “What does it look like I’m doing?” she snarled. “I’m getting my revenge.”

              Killian had to half jog to keep up with her as she took the apartment steps two at a time, and he had to keep that brisk pace as he followed her down the sidewalk.

              “I found him, Killian,” she explained, keeping her gaze fixed straight ahead, “five damn years, and I finally found him. You want to know where?”

              “See, you haven’t answered my question, love –“

              Emma finally stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to level a withering glare at him. He didn’t back down, merely leveling her with a glare of his own. She sighed deeply and lifted the baseball bat from her shoulder.

              “There,” she said pointing the bat directly at the bar across the street, “feeling up some curvy brunette wearing a halter crop top. A halter crop top. What is this? 1993?”

              Killian couldn’t help the half smile that quirked his lips. “Well, the nineties _are_ trending, Swan.”

              Emma rolled her eyes and continued walking, “I’m not in the mood for your jokes, Killian.”

              “Want to tell me now why you’re armed, love?” he asked in a voice he imagined using on an unpredictable wild animal.

              Emma chuckled sardonically, “I’m not wasting them on _him_ , if that’s what you’re worried about. Though I have considered it.” She turned at the end of the block and entered a parking garage. She marched with purpose straight for a bright red Mazda Miata. She scowled at the vehicle with eyes so narrowed with venom, Killian wouldn’t have been surprised if fire shot out of them. “Red, Neal? Really? That’s my color.”

              And with that, she lifted the bat above her head and slammed it down on the hood of the car.

              “Bloody hell, Swan!” Killian shouted. “Have you lost your mind completely?”

              Emma smirked wickedly at him. “I thought you liked my baseball bat.”

              She was referring to the day they met. Killian was simply coming across the hall to ask if she needed help with her boxes. Emma, evidently, took offense to that.

              “I like that you stand up for yourself. I sleep better knowing you’re a fighter. I mean, this is Boston.”

              “Yeah, I’m a fighter all right,” Emma agreed as she lifted the bat again. She took her frustrations out this time on the driver’s side door. “I. Have. Him. To thank. For that.”

She punctuated each word with a blow until the door was so crumpled it would take a crow bar to open it again. With unrestrained rage, she took the bat next to the windows. After shattering the driver’s and passenger windows, she leveled blows at the windshield. It was designed to take a beating; and with each swing of the bat, Emma listed Neal’s transgressions.

“You made _me_ take the fall for your crime. I had our baby in prison. I had to give him up. I’m all alone because of _you._ ”

She then turned the bat and her rage on both headlights, then let the slugger fall with a clatter to the pavement. Killian went to her then, tried to take her gently by the arm, but she shook him off. She pulled the switchblade from her pocket as she reached her hand into the passenger side door. Despite her rage, Killian grabbed her by the wrist.

“What are you going to do, Emma?” he asked her, lowering his voice to the most gentle timbre he could muster. She deflated somewhat; at least she was no longer shoving him away. “I think you’ve made your point. Let’s go before a security guard shows up.”

Angry tears pooled in her eyes as she shook her head. “No, Killian. Not until I let him know it was me.”

Killian’s eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean?”

Emma shrugged and gave him a half-smile. “Carve my name into the leather seats, of course.”

Killian snatched the blade from her hand before she even knew what hit her. They were both private investigators for the same firm; she wasn’t the only one with tricks up her sleeve. “Don’t be an idiot, Emma, you may as well leave a business card so the cops know exactly where to pick you up.”

Emma scowled and waved a hand at him dismissively. “Already looked into it. It’s just vandalizing private property. You’re talking a thousand dollar fine and a few hundred hours of community service.” She snatched the blade from his hand and rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I don’t already have a criminal record.”

“A _juvenile_ record,” Killian corrected, “which is sealed. Do you really want to add adult charges that will follow you around for the rest of your life?”

He could tell by the look in her eyes that he had made her stop and think. Then, he could practically see the moment an idea popped into her head, and she wrenched the door open. She leaned into the car, resting her knees on the passenger seat and began carving something into the leather headrest. Whatever it was took concentration because Emma’s tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth. When she crawled back outside, Killian leaned in to see. The letters were crudely carved, but anyone could easily read the single word: _Tallahassee_. Killian straightened and turned to find Emma slashing one of the back tires with her knife.

“Well,” he told her as he shoved his hand into the front pocket of his jeans, “you’ve certainly got a flair for the dramatic.”

Emma grinned as she stood. “What can I say? You taught me well.” Then she bent and picked up the Louisville Slugger. She rested it against her shoulder again and punched him lightly in the arm. “I feel much better. Ready for rum, pizza, and a movie like we planned?”

He frowned. “I thought it was beer and pizza.”

Emma sighed deeply. “Tonight it needs to be rum.”

Killian flung his arm around her as they exited the parking garage. She seemed content now, elated even, but he’d been down this road himself. The adrenaline would wear off, and he planned on being there to catch her when she came crashing back to reality.          

              ************************************************************

Their night of rum, pizza, and a movie devolved into mostly just rum; at least for Emma. Rum that had reduced Emma to an emotional drunk who was curled into the fetal position against Killian’s chest, sobbing. His shirt was soaked with her tears. She would be embarrassed if he hadn’t already seen her like this three times before, every year when her baby’s birthday rolled around. Had they really been friends for over three years now? It was probably the longest relationship of any kind for her; a record. Including Neal.

Emma knew that was because Killian left the boundaries completely up to her. He met her while she was swinging a baseball bat at his head, so she shouldn’t have been surprised. He hadn’t even held her violence against her when they realized the next day that they were also co-workers. He had merely called her a woman of action, winked, and told her that he loved a challenge. Normally, that type of flirting would have made Emma close herself off completely, but for some reason, Killian’s antics had made her smile - almost. Roll her eyes of course, but half-smile nonetheless. From then on, he seemed perfectly fine with riding the emotional roller coaster called Emma Swan. If she was down one day and ignored him completely, he took it in stride. And if the next day, she was barging into his apartment in her pajama pants with a six pack of beer in her arms, he rolled with that, too.

And right now he was handling hot mess Emma with practiced calm.

 

Emma sniffled as she dropped her head against his chest. “Why don’t I feel better?” she mumbled against the fabric of his t-shirt. “I thought this would fix things.” Killian remained silent, simply rubbing her arm gently and pressing a chaste kiss to her temple. So she went on. “Two years I waited for him in Tallahassee, Killian. God, I was so stupid and naïve.”

“Not stupid,” he quickly corrected, “you’re never stupid.” He said the same thing every time she told the story. How many times had she told him this story now? She was always drunk when she told it, which made it difficult to count.

“Then I got this job, turned my life around, and I thought if I just found him . . . if I just . . . .” she took a deep, shuddering breath, “if I just . . . “

“Got revenge?” Killian supplied.

“Yeah,” Emma admitted reluctantly. She had said it herself just a few hours ago. Why did it seem so silly to admit it now? “I thought putting him in his place would feel satisfying, but it’s just . . . not.” Her words sounded lame, even to her own ears, and her cheeks burned as she traced the pattern of her flannel pajama pants with her pinkie finger.

“Revenge rarely is, love,” Killian told her with a sigh.

He shifted on the couch, swinging his legs up and leaning his back against the arm rest. Emma wedged herself between him and the back of the couch. She rested her cheek against his chest and grabbed his blunted arm. She pulled it around her waist and held tight to the end, tracing the scars that ran around what used to be his wrist. Even after three years of friendship, he only took his brace off in his own apartment. And Emma wondered if he would even have done that if she hadn’t barged in to find him without it six months into their friendship. It had never once bothered her, but it had taken him awhile to feel at ease about it around her.

“I told you about going to Gold’s execution,” Killian said quietly.

“Yeah,” Emma replied softly, knowing it was still a difficult subject for him.

“I thought seeing Milah’s killer get what he deserved would ease the pain of losing her. I thought it would change things. But it didn’t. I came home that night to find that I was still the same – a one-handed washed-up musician with a drinking problem.”

His self-deprecating tone bothered her, and she sat up to scowl at him. “None of that’s true, Killian. I’ve never seen anything you can’t do. One-handed or not.”

She half-expected him to make a dirty innuendo, but he only shrugged dejectedly. “Playing lead guitar in a band is something you’ve never seen me do. That man didn’t just kill the woman I loved, he killed my dreams. His execution couldn’t change that any more than it could bring Milah back.”

Emma took his blunted arm in both hands and frowned as she stroked it. “Surely there’s a way . . .” When she glanced up she saw a gleam in his eyes. She cocked her head and nudged him in the ribs. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Killian blushed as he sat up and swung his legs back around to sit next to her. “Well,” he hedged, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’ve been playing around with my guitar again.” He quickly raised a hand in protest as Emma grasped his bicep and shook it with excitement. “Now calm down, Swan, I won’t be performing anytime soon. I’ve had to learn to play left-handed instead of right, so . . . “ he shook his head, “to say it’s all a bit rusty is an understatement. I’ve been working on the same song for almost a year now.”

A smile slowly filled her face, and his eyes went wide. “Oh, no, Emma. No way can I play for anyone!”

She batted her green eyes at him, which she knew usually did the trick. “Not even for me? On a night when I really need some cheering up?”

“Bloody hell, Swan,” he muttered as he ran his hand through his hair. He rose from the couch and went into his bedroom. Emma squealed with delight when she saw that he had his guitar. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he practically growled as he got the guitar situated against his left thigh.

Emma curled herself up at the far end of the couch, hugging one of the throw pillows to her chest. Killian strummed with his stump, tuned it a bit with his right hand, then cleared his throat before launching into the song.

Emma’s hands clenched the pillow tighter and her face grew hot as the sound of his voice washed over her. Deep and melodious, like warm honey, it had the strangest affect on her. The way he smiled at her as he sang only increased the unidentifiable feeling.

_Back beat, the word is on the street_

_That the fire in your heart is out_

_I’m sure you’ve heard it all before_

_But you never really had a doubt_

_I don’t believe that anybody_

_Feels the way I do about you now_

There had always been something about Killian’s eyes. It wasn’t just that they were that beautiful blue color, it was the expressiveness in them. Some people wore their hearts on their sleeves; Killian wore his in his eyes. And the look he was giving her right now . . .

_And all the roads we have to walk are winding_

_And all the lights that lead us there are blinding_

_There are many things that I_

_Would like to say to you but I don’t know how_

Yes, his eyes were speaking volumes right now. As she gazed into them, especially as he sang that last line, they were awash with feelings. Too. Many. Feelings. And it was a good thing that her best friend was used to her emotional roller coaster.

Because without a word of explanation, Emma leapt to her feet and ran across the hall to her own apartment.

              ***************************************************

The next morning found Emma, predictably, on the floor of her bathroom hugging her toilet. As she retched, she also cried thinking that if it hadn’t been for Killian’s damn eyes and that song, she would be puking in _his_ bathroom, and he would be –

Suddenly, a warm hand was brushing against her neck as Killian gathered her hair away from her face. She hurled some more and sniffled, hoping he couldn’t tell she had been crying.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him, trying to sound irritated. And failing.

“I’ll always be here, Swan.”

Emma could hear everything he wasn’t saying. That he knew he had freaked her out, but it was okay. They could keep on the way they always had. Emma wearily rested her forehead against the cool porcelain.

“Promise?” Her voice came out like a small child’s.

Killian didn’t hesitate. “Solemnly.”

Emma managed a chuckle before throwing up again. She should have known Killian Jones didn’t simply make promises. The man made solemn freakin’ vows.

              ***********************************************************

Just as Emma had expected, things went back to the way things had always been between them. They were in and out of each other’s apartments, just like always. They bantered at work, just like always. He brought her bear claws for breakfast and onion rings at lunch. Just like always.

And yet . . . something had shifted. Something nameless, yet significant. And those blue eyes? There was a sadness there Emma had never noticed before.

It was only less than a week into this new, more awkward version of her best friend, and Emma was sitting in front of her computer at work, pounding on the keys with frustration. She glanced across at the opposite desk for the tenth time that morning. Killian hadn’t shown up yet. Not only that, she had zero text messages from him. If he were chasing down a lead, he would have told her. If he were sick, he would have let her know. So where was he?

Emma set her chin in her hand, blowing out a frustrated breath as she scrolled through her emails. One from her boss had her out of her chair and marching angrily into his office. She slammed the door behind her, taking great satisfaction in the way Graham Humbert jumped at her sudden appearance.

“What the hell is this about Ruby doing the stakeout with me tonight?” Emma demanded, placing both hands on her hips. “Killian and I have been working this entire case together; he should be the one to take down this scumbag with me!”

Graham’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Killian didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

Graham rose from his desk and came around towards Emma. “You two are so close; I assumed he did. He asked for the day off today. Said he . . . “ Graham’s eyes suddenly widened as he trailed off.

“What?” Emma demanded in frustration.

Graham shook his head and waved Emma off. “Nothing. I probably shouldn’t say anything.”

Emma narrowed her eyes and bit out her next words. “Tell me, Graham. Now!”

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “He said . . . no, he implied, that the two of you had disagreed on the case. He said you wanted to run with it, and he was okay with that. He told me he had some personal business to attend to, so letting you take the lead on it worked out perfectly.” Graham shrugged. “Like I said, he made it sound like the two of you had discussed it.”

Emma felt herself deflate. She had thought things had gotten back to normal between them, but apparently, she had been wrong. Was being around her that painful for him? And what was this personal business of his? Surely he wouldn’t . . . leave. No. No, never. Killian Jones had solemnly vowed that he would always be here for her. Emma backed away, shaking her head.

“Tell Ruby I’ll be back in time for the stakeout,” she muttered, “there’s . . . something I gotta do.”

              **************************************************

Emma Swan was not a planner. She was a “make it up as you go along” kind of girl. Today was no different. With no plan whatsoever, she ended up just using her key to barge into Killian’s apartment. She marched into his living room, beyond annoyed to find him lounging casually on his couch, calmly perusing the newspaper.

“Killian Jones!” she shouted at him. “Where the hell do you get off lying to Humbert and sticking me with Ruby of all people for a stakeout? And what _personal business_ do you have to work out, anyway? Is it so personal you couldn’t even tell your best friend about it?” She paused, her arms crossed over her chest, which was heaving with both emotion and the sprinting she had just done up three flights of stairs.

Killian calmly lowered his paper, quirking an eyebrow at her. “Read the paper today, Swan?”

Emma rolled her eyes and snatched the newsprint out of his hand, but she stopped short of smacking him across the face with it. “Is everything a joke to you?”

Killian sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “The personal business has nothing to do with you, Swan, and I was planning on telling you once I had figured everything out.” He took a deep breath. “I wrote a song.”

Emma dropped to the couch next to him, blinking rapidly with surprise, then shook her head. “You did?”

“Aye,” he told her, “you see, I was in a dark place for a really long time. I vowed never to love again, but then this woman came into my life, and she inspired me. She saw past the ugliness that I had lost myself in, and she made me believe that life could be good again. And . . . I wrote a song.”

Those eyes of his searched hers intently, and she swallowed hard. She realized that she desperately wanted this mystery woman to be her. And if she wasn’t, well, then Emma hated her already.

Emma finally found her voice. “You wrote a song.”

Killian laughed lightly. “Yes, we’ve established that. What’s more, an old band mate of mine loves it and wants to record it. If I can make a living somehow with my music, then I - “

“Have to take it.” Emma finished for him. He nodded and she smiled, taking his hand and squeezing it. She wanted him to live his dream, but it broke her heart to think of not having him across from her every day.

As if he could read her mind, he squeezed her hand in return and gave her a soft smile. “I’m not quitting my day job yet, Swan.”

She had to admit, his words caused relief to flood through her. He nudged her shoulder and gestured to the crumpled paper in her hand. “I’ll ask you again, Emma. Have you seen the paper?”

Emma eyed him curiously before unfolding the paper and smoothing it out on her knee. The headline splashed across the front read, “Stolen Car Found Abandoned, Vandalized.” Emma scanned the article, her eyes growing wide.

“It was a stolen car,” Emma whispered. She looked up into Killian’s mirthful eyes. “He stole the stupid car.” And suddenly, she was laughing and crying all at the same time. Of _course_ Neal had stolen that Miata. Five years later, and the loser was still a thief. Had his promise of Tallahassee ever been real? Thinking of promises made Emma think of Killian’s vow to her the other night. She looked into his soulful blue eyes, and for once, she didn’t look away.

“The woman,” she asked him softly, “who inspired you? Is she –“

“You, Emma?” Killian cut her off. He leaned closer to her, close enough that she could see the sparks of green in his eyes. She nodded, both fearful and hopeful of his answer. “Aye.”

He said it so simply, so matter-of-factly, as if she ought to know. Emma leaned towards him, tilting her head to press her lips to his. Her eyes fluttered closed as her mouth opened for him on a sigh. His lips were so soft, the kiss gentle and tentative, like a promise. Emma pulled back for a moment to open her eyes and drink in the sight of him. He looked worried for a moment, but then Emma smiled, and his face relaxed.

“The song is about you, too,” he told her as he thumbed her chin.

Emma felt her smile might split her face as her hands wound themselves around his neck. She pulled him in for another kiss, her fingers toying with the soft hairs that curled at his nape. Never had a kiss felt so right, so safe. It was like coming home.

Maybe the best revenge was grabbing hold of Tallahassee with someone else. With the man right here in her arms. Her best friend. Her soul mate.


End file.
